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Somehow, in Tsukishima Kei’s long and tumultuous volleyball career, he has never broken a finger. He’s jammed it plenty, dislocated it a few times even.
This, however, feels and looks different. Practice had been running normally — Koganegawa shouting nonsense, Kei deftly ignoring it — until Kei leapt up to block one of Kyoutani’s killer spikes and he felt something snap. His fingers must have been splayed just the wrong way, or Kyoutani had angled his spike just so, or maybe Jupiter was in retrospective or whatever it is Yachi's always going on about.
Suzuki, their trainer, took one look at his finger — bright, angry red and bent at a decidedly unhealthy angle — gave Kei an ibuprofen, and sent him off to the urgent care to have it looked at. He’d sent him with Kyoutani, of all people, maybe as punishment for spiking the ball in the first place.
“Do you want me to like… phone Yamaguchi?” Kyoutani asks a half-hour later, sat beside Kei in the waiting room of the nearest urgent care. He doesn’t appear uncomfortable so much as unclear as to what he’s supposed to be doing. Granted, Kei is unclear too. He’s just grateful he’s not here with Koganegawa, who won’t stop texting both of them for updates.
Kei shakes his head. “He’s working tonight. I don’t want to bother him.” Kei digs his phone out of his bag with his good hand and slowly composes a message. Hey. Don’t worry about it but I’m at the hospital. Think I’ve broken my finger. You don’t need to come mad dog is here love you.
He sends a message to his mom too, while he’s at it. He and Tadashi were going to take the train out for dinner at Kei’s mom’s, a regular occurrence now that Kei’s moved out. It’s nice, he thinks. It was just the three Tsukishimas, originally, and then Akiteru had told them all he was dating someone — Kei had snickered to himself during Akiteru’s admission, and immediately stopped once he learned who it was — and Tanaka Saeko started coming along once in a while.
And then Kei and Tadashi’s third year of university happened and, well, things Kei doesn’t wish to get into occurred and now Tadashi happily joins Kei on his biweekly pilgrimage to his mother’s home. As his boyfriend. Life partner, Akiteru had said once, only half sarcastic, seconds before Kei threw a wet tea towel at him. Tadashi’s presence didn’t really change anything — though sometimes, now, Tadashi will finagle Kei into their tiny kitchen to help him make a cake to bring with them.
Now, after three or so years, they have it down to a science. Kei and Tadashi meet at home after practice and work, get changed, and are out the door by six o’clock. Upon arrival, Kei puts the leaf in the dining room table and Tadashi brings in the extra chairs while Akiteru helps finish dinner and Saeko recounts a story Akiteru had already told Kei.
Tonight, however, is a bit of a special occasion. Akiteru had (finally) proposed to Saeko earlier in the week after being talked up to it by Kei and Tanaka, and Kei’s mom had invited Saeko’s family to dinner to celebrate. Tadashi and Kei made a carrot cake — Akiteru’s favourite — the night before. Tadashi had stayed up late to mix icing in their mismatched bowls and carefully pipe small, cartoonish carrots onto each slice while Kei had watched warily over his shoulder.
Kei feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and tugs it out to take a look.
Tsukki!!!!!!
Your finger!!!!!!! :<
Which hospital are you at I’m finishing up now. I love u
Kei is in the process of responding when a nurse appears, calling his name. She takes him back to yet another room and tells him the doctor will be with him shortly. Kyoutani comes back with him, and settles in the chair beside the hospital bed.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” Kei says. He and Kyoutani tend to gravitate towards each other during team dinners and other sorts of events, maybe because they’re close in age, or maybe because they have little patience for their more excitable team members. They’re not exactly friends yet — it took Kei years before he considered Kageyama and Hinata friends; he’s trying to speed up the process a bit this time. “I think Yamaguchi’s coming.”
Kyoutani shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
They talk about nothing for a while, until Kyoutani announces he’s going to go find a washroom. Kei’s phone buzzes with another message from Tadashi — Here, it says simply. Another one comes in: I’m in the waiting area Tsukki love youuuuuuuuuuuuu can’t wait to see youuuuuuu. A few silly emojis pop up soon after. Kei sends back a single green heart. Kyoutani reappears fifteen minutes later with a handful of vending machine snacks and a strawberry soda for Kei.
The nurse returns soon after, this time accompanied by a man in a white coat with slicked-back greying hair. He introduces himself curtly as the doctor here to set Kei’s finger and promptly gets to work. Kei grits his teeth at the worst of it but it’s easy and the doctor is done quick.
“How was the finger broken?” the doctor asks, rising from his stool and moving to the small sink to wash his hands. The nurse swoops in to gather the supplies.
“I play volleyball,” Kei offers. He tilts his head towards Kyoutani and says, "This guy forgot we were just practicing."
The doctor nods once. “I understand that’s a common injury. A lot of kids come through here with sprains or broken fingers." The doctor eyes Kei and Kyoutani's matching tracksuits and Kei's too-long body. "I'll admit, I've never treated a professional."
"Semi-professional," Kyoutani corrects, because he's a bit of a dick. Kei makes a show of rolling his eyes and the doctor chuckles.
The doctor outlines how Kei should care for his finger, bows politely, and then he’s off. The nurse tells them they’re free to go and Kei and Kyoutani gather their things and follow her out.
Kei scans the waiting room and easily spots Tadashi in the back corner. It’s a game he has quite a bit of practice at, searching through a crowd for a messy, familiar head of hair. The top button of Tadashi’s work shirt is unbuttoned, Kei notices, and his tie is loose, coat and messenger bag piled up on the chair beside him, and Kei is struck, like he always is, by how good he looks, how grown up and put together he has become. He hasn’t spotted Kei yet — he’s fiddling with something on his phone and drumming his thumb against a can of coffee. He looks frazzled, Kei thinks, which isn’t an altogether new expression for Tadashi.
Tadashi spots the two of them finally and meets Kei’s eyes and the tension on his face melts away. He gives him the warmest look and Kei’s insides start to go soft. He hadn’t felt nervous or scared or anything during the whole process but he’s hit by a wave of something that feels an awful lot like relief. Something inside of him unwinds.
Tadashi stands when Kei reaches him, Kyoutani trailing back a bit. “Hey you,” he says gently, softly, reaching forward to circle his fingers around the wrist of Kei’s injured hand and squeezing for half a second before letting go. He slides himself into his jacket — a large, green, vintage thing with a corduroy collar Tadashi had found at an overpriced thrift store in Tokyo on a weekend trip.
“You all set?” Tadashi finally asks, heaving his messenger bag up over his shoulder.
“Yeah. Let me…,” Kei trails off, pulling the hood of his sweater up and carefully shrugging on his Frogs jacket. He pulls his scarf out of his gym bag and tries to wrap it around his neck one-handed. It’s not the simplest of tasks — he’s struggling enough that Tadashi reaches over and loops the scarf around and tucks it into itself. Tadashi grins and pulls his hat over his ears. Kyoutani snorts from behind them and Kei twists around to see him roll his eyes fondly.
“Hey, Kyoutani,” Tadashi says warmly. He steps around Kei to give Kyoutani a wave. “What’s up? Want to walk to the station with us?”
“Sure,” Kyoutani agrees. He zips up his jacket, the same garish green as Kei’s. “Lead the way.”
Kei helps himself to a squirt of the hand sanitizer at the clinic’s entrance and follows Tadashi and Kyoutani out the sliding doors. It’s dark outside — it’s not too late yet but it’s early January, barely the New Year. The sun had set long ago. Kei’s content to walk behind the two and listen to them catch up. Tadashi asks about Yahaba, about the Frogs, about the old Seijou team. He’s interested to hear Seijou’s old ace has returned to Japan from California and signed some sort of contract with the national team. Kei watches the breath escape from their mouths in clouds, illuminated by the flickering streetlights above, as they talk.
They enter the train station and Kyoutani splits off with a wave and a Feel better, Tsukishima and a Nice to see you, Yamaguchi. Kei and Tadashi venture deeper into the station. It’s quiet this time of night — rush hour has long ended and the weekend partygoers have yet to get started.
They find the platform for their train and Kei unearths his headphone splitter and headphones. The headphones are new — Akiteru had given them to Kei for his birthday a couple years prior. Tadashi raises an eyebrow at him and digs his own earbuds out of his bag.
For a second, the station is filled with the sound of rushing air and squealing breaks and then the train is there, doors open, passengers spilling out. The car is mostly empty, a few commuters with work shirts like Tadashi’s and books or phones in their hands sprinkled here and there. They find a pair of seats easily. Somewhere, a voice strains through the train’s speakers to politely announce the closing doors. Kei pulls his headphones over his ears.
The straggling passengers filter out over the next few stops until the train car is empty. Kei shuffles down in his seat and leans his head on Tadashi’s shoulder, who laughs a bit and presses his lips to the crown of Kei’s head. Kei closes his eyes for a second and listens to his music and feels Tadashi’s fingers dance on his knee in time.
The train slows eventually and Kei blinks his eyes open again and sits up. Tadashi moves his hand back to his lap. The doors slide open and a couple teenagers, louder than they probably should be, jostle in.
It’s not a far journey. Only a couple songs worth. Kei follows Tadashi off the train once they arrive at their stop, removing his headphones and stowing them in his bag. It had started snowing, Kei notices, since he left the practice facility hours ago. It’s falling fast and heavy now, covering the road and sidewalk. Tadashi gasps theatrically and rushes forward into the white mess of it to stand under a streetlight. The snow glows around him and he grins. Kei looks to see if anyone is loitering around the station or up the street and he strides forward and takes Tadashi’s face in his good hand and kisses him. Tadashi kisses back eagerly, chilly fingers on Kei’s cheeks.
Tadashi pulls away, barely, still tucked away in Kei’s arms. He presses his forehead to the spot where, under all of his layers, Kei’s neck, shoulder and chest meet. Kei’s hand comes up to the nape of his neck, fingers in his hair underneath his hat, and Tadashi asks, “What are we going to have for dinner?”
Kei rolls his eyes, making a petulant noise. “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
“I’m serious!” Tadashi replies, laughing. He leans back and Kei lets his arms fall away. “Do you want to stop and get something?”
Kei groans. “Don’t we have leftovers?” he asks hopefully, stepping out from Tadashi’s arms and trudging towards their street. This is the worst thing about being an adult, Kei learned long ago — deciding what to have for dinner. “Isn’t there curry from last night?”
“I think so.” Tadashi cuts Kei a mischievous look. “And that carrot cake.”
“And that carrot cake,” Kei confirms.
Tadashi unlocks the door once they arrive at their apartment and Kei follows him in. They toe off their shoes and begin to take off all of their winter layers, putting them neatly away in the small front closet. The air inside their apartment is warm and pleasant and everything smells like their laundry detergent; Kei takes a deep breath and fills his lungs with it.
Tadashi deposits his messenger bag by the genkan and pulls out his phone, fiddling with it for a moment before the handful of table lamps in their main room come to life, casting the room in downy, soft light. “I’ll start the rice?” he proposes, already on his way to the kitchen.
Their last apartment was sterile, temporary. This one is furnished with secondhand appliances Kei had found on Facebook and a cat tower in their living room for a cat they do not yet have. There’s a bag of leftover rainbow-coloured carrots in their fridge — decorated with old photos Yachi had taken with her pink Polaroid — for the carrot cake they made as an engagement gift for Akiteru. The lights in their bedroom glow pink with just a tap of Tadashi’s finger with an app on his phone.
There’s a framed photo of Kei, Tadashi, Kageyama, Hinata and Yachi on the first day of nationals in their third year sitting on the media console that Tadashi and Kei had picked out and bought together when they moved into this apartment. If Kei thinks about it too long or too hard he’s overwhelmed by how domestic the whole thing is, how disgustingly adult. There’s a blanket thrown over the back of their IKEA couch that Kei’s grandma had knitted for them, for God’s sake. Kei shakes his head.
He lets Tadashi wrap his hand in a garbage bag and leaves him humming in the kitchen. He starts the shower and undresses while it heats up, depositing his dirty clothes in the hamper tucked in the corner. Just as he’s rinsing out the conditioner with his good hand, the old door creaks open. Kei’s finished with his shower but he waits until Tadashi steps in, until Tadashi presses his cold fingers into Kei’s shower-warm skin. Kei leans in and Tadashi tilts his head up and they kiss, long, lingering, hands trailing, until Tadashi pushes Kei away, laughing sweetly, saying something about shampoo.
Kei steps out and leaves Tadashi to finish in the shower. He pulls on his clothes — sweatpants, old t-shirt, sweater, thick socks — and lets himself fall backwards on the bed while he waits for Tadashi. The rice cooker chimes in the kitchen. He finds his phone and examines Hinata’s newest Instagram post: a selfie of him and some of his Black Jackals team members dressed in the black and red of the national team instead of their usual black and gold. Hinata and Bokuto are sporting similar grins and peace signs, while Sakusa’s giving Miya bunny ears. Kei spots Kageyama glaring at the camera far off in the background and snickers to himself. He zooms in and screenshots it.
Tadashi steps into their room, towel knotted low on his hips, arms wrapped around his chest to stave off the cold. He hops around the room trying to get his sweatpants on and shimmies himself into a hoodie before climbing onto the bed and flopping down beside Kei. A hand comes up to cover a yawn. “What’re you looking at?”
Kei tips the screen of his phone towards him. Tadashi leans in to look — Kei’s just sent the Kageyama photo to the group chat he and Tadashi are in with Kageyama, Hinata and Yachi.
Tadashi can’t help but laugh. “Mean, Tsukki!” Tadashi scolds.
They lie there together for a little while more, Kei scrolling through his volleyball-infested Instagram feed, Tadashi providing commentary. They work together to draft a comment to leave on Kuroo's latest photo dump. Tadashi’s wet hair is getting Kei’s sweatshirt all damp but Kei doesn't mind. Tadashi’s stomach groans warningly after a while and Kei reluctantly follows him out of their bedroom.
They’re a two-headed beast in their small kitchen — Kei reaching for bowls, Tadashi collecting cutlery. Tadashi waits until Kei’s scooped fresh rice into their bowls before he spoons out the curry he had just reheated; Kei grabs a beer from the fridge for Tadashi before flicking off the appropriate light and swinging himself around to sit on the couch.
They eat dinner over an episode of an American show about a guy who gets a computer uploaded to his brain. Tadashi had wanted to rewatch it — he had been obsessed with it back in high school and they needed something silly and easy to watch on the nights Kei doesn’t practice late or Tadashi isn’t stuck working overtime.
Halfway through, Kei’s phone rings with a call from his mom. It’s quick, just to let Kei know that we’ve rescheduled Akiteru and Saeko’s engagement dinner for tomorrow night so you and Tadashi can come, will that work for you two? Kei thinks for a moment, looks at Tadashi who’s sitting close enough to overhear and sees he’s nodding, tells her yes we’re free, and answers her other few questions too, no my finger isn’t too painful, yes I’ll be sitting out of the next couple games. She’s always preferred quick, concise phone calls to texts, eager to collect the information she needs to proceed.
“No carrot cake, then?” Tadashi asks when Kei hangs up. Kei laughs and sets his phone down on the coffee table.
“We can make another one,” he proposes.
Tadashi makes a face. “I was hoping we could do something else tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Kei asks, reaching for his bowl. “What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we could go somewhere.” Tadashi takes a long drink of his beer and then sets it down on one of the coasters — volleyball-shaped, a housewarming gift from Yachi. “Maybe we could go get a new kettle.”
Kei nods. Their kettle, a hand-me-down from Akiteru, had died a few weeks back, and boiling water on their small stove was getting old.
“Only if you’re up for it, Tsukki,” Tadashi adds gently, eyes landing on the splint on Kei’s hand.
“You didn’t have to come get me,” Kei mumbles. He knows he’s avoiding Tadashi’s question, but — “It’s just a broken finger. Happens all the time.” I’m fine, he means.
Tadashi takes Kei’s hand in both of his and rubs his palm gently with his thumb. “I know you're fine, it’s just. I wanted to be there.”
“I know,” Kei says. The way it felt to see Tadashi waiting for him gets caught in his throat. “I’m sorry.”
Tadashi flicks Kei on the forehead. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I was worried about you! I wanted to come. Can we watch now, please?”
“Yes, sir,” Kei says. “Maybe we can go to that new bookstore downtown tomorrow?”
Tadashi pretends to think about it for a moment before replying. “I think we can make that work,” he says, picking up the remote and hitting play.
Kei is half asleep before the episode's end and he blinks awake to Tadashi’s Animal Crossing island. The sky there is clear, a rich dark blue muddled with pinks and purples. It’s dotted with small twinkling stars and every so often one of them moves, sailing across the TV screen. Kei is slumped over on Tadashi’s shoulder, he discovers, and he feels the muscles in Tadashi’s forearm move as he presses a button on his controller. His finger is sore; he's due for another ibuprofen.
“What did you wish for?” Kei asks. He presses his forehead into the meat of Tadashi’s bicep like a cat. Tadashi shifts under him and his hand comes up to card through Kei’s hair. Kei would usually object to this — it makes his hair puffier than it ought to be — but now, most of the way asleep, he finds he doesn’t mind.
“You, silly,” Tadashi replies. The lights glow warm and Kei thinks he could fall asleep right here on the couch. The snow whirls and dances in the wind outside, their windows creaking in protest.
Tadashi smiles and Kei closes his eyes. “I always wish for you.”